Meet The Parents
by oneiromancer242
Summary: Two young Mutants slowly trying to find their way in the world should take advice from the people who know them best - their parents. Unashamedly Fluffy Quicksilver/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**collegegurl12, you wanted to see Angela and Magda meet again? Here you are. It's multi-chapter but I doubt it's going to go to a dozen this time. I really couldn't just put Angela in a box and forget her, she's way too much fun.**

1

Radio playing quietly, _check,_ hot cup of tea, _check,_ comfortable slippers, _check_ – Magda was certain that she had everything she needed to settle down for a pleasant late afternoon by herself. She'd taken a few hours at the local library since her son moved away, finding the house quiet and lonely sometimes. It helped her to get out and talk to people, stopped her from thinking every waking hour about her little boy out there in the big world, gave her space to bring herself round to the thought that he was turning 30 in four years' time and really she should loosen up those apron-strings a little. Even so, retreating to the peace of her little house was a welcome comfort at the end of the day. She sipped her tea, smiled at a terrible joke the radio host made, sunk a little further into the cushions. Nothing could possibly shatter this peace.

Except of course for the front door banging open and the whirlwind that was her son blowing into the house, of course, which was exactly what happened right at that moment.

Forgetting the tea (removed from her hand without a drop spilled, placed on the table across the room before she had time to think) she flung her arms around Peter in delight and squeezed him so hard she felt joints pop. She would never get used to the fact that she only came up to his shoulder now, reaching up to pinch his cheeks, beam at him, and scoop him up into another cuddle.

"Hey Mom?" Peter gasped, "I'm glad to see you too but I kinda need to breathe"

She allowed him to move, but left her hands resting on his shoulders, still grinning with the thrill of having her handsome boy back so unexpectedly. It was payback, she supposed, for all those times she showed up without telling him first. Looking him up and down as if to make sure he was real

"You look thin" she chided. He scoffed at her, allowed yet another hug,

"I don't. I look exactly the same, in fact I think I put on a couple pounds"

He was probably right, she thought, he did seem to have just a tiny touch more muscle on him. It wasn't going to stop her spoiling him rotten whilst he was here, though. As he moved to take his jacket off and throw it on a chair (terrible habit, when would he ever break it?) Magda looked out into the hallway and saw a familiar girl standing there behind her son.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, surprised to see her. "Hello, Angela"

"Hi… umm, Magda. I mean, Ms Maximoff"

Peter looked confused as hell, Looking first at one woman then the other. He'd even stopped still, he was so puzzled

"You've met?" he asked, incredulous, "When did that happen?!"

"At the Academy," Angela answered for her, "last Summer"

Magda smiled at the memory of the girl in the ankle-length flowered skirt sitting alone under a tree reading Goethe aloud to herself. She'd grown her hair since then, and the streaks in the front were purple now, but she still had that same sweet prettiness that had made the older woman a little sad at the loss of her own vivacious youth.

"Well, you're very welcome here, it's lovely to see you again. I didn't know that you and Peter were friends"

A glance passed between them, a pause during which both coloured a little and quickly looked away. Magda understood perfectly, and her heart skipped a beat. _Finally!_ she thought. She'd been dying for Peter to bring a girl home for years, and almost given up on the poor boy ever finding someone. It seemed highly unlikely, when he'd been unable to stop still long enough to talk to anyone, bombarding them with a flood of words when he did speak. Then those years he'd spent cloistered in the basement getting sadder and more lonely all the time. It had hurt her to see him turning his back on the world like that, but she understood – the world had turned its back first, after all. She looked up at her son proudly, and made a mental note to remember Professor Xavier in her evening prayers. Peter would never have come out of himself like this if it hadn't been for the Academy. To her surprise he was standing watching her, chewing a thumbnail the way he used to when he was really young and had just broken something very important. Then it hit her. He was nervous about bringing Angela here. She smiled fondly, crossed the room and enveloped Angela in a hug too, planted a small but very warm kiss on her cheek, took her hand to lead her into the room properly.

"I'll go and fix us all something to drink. You two make yourselves comfortable"

Once in the kitchen, she put the kettle on to boil then raised both fists in the air and silently mouthed _thank you!_ to any passing spirit that happened to be listening. It was probably too soon for such joy, but she knew that little flush of the cheeks, that shy smile, she wasn't so old as to not remember how it felt to be dizzy over someone, and the idea that someone was dizzy over her son was just amazing to her. Peter was a cocky little motor-mouth with a ready wit and a charming smile, and despite his unusual colour of hair and the pallor of his skin, he was quite the good looking young man. Magda was biased, she knew, but she could see that her son's handsome face and slim, athletic figure was easy on anyone's eyes. Despite all that, before he had gone away to the Academy he'd had no self-confidence at all, his bluster and snark was a good disguise but it didn't conceal that undertone of pleading for someone, _anyone_ , to look past it and like him for who he was. At last, it would seem that someone had managed to do that. Magda couldn't have been happier if she tried.

Carrying the tray of tea through she heard voices from down in the basement for the first time in months, and descended the stairs to see the pair over by the arcade cabinet. Angela laughing delightedly as she watched Peter blaze through a level of Ms Pac-Man in record time.

"It's so cool that you have an arcade machine in your house," she said admiringly, "Where did you get it from?"

"He stole it," Magda said, setting the tray down on the table and making herself comfortable on the sofa. Peter gave her a look as if to say _Mom! How could you?_ And she simply smiled sweetly in response. "Oh not by himself, of course. His sister helped"

Angela looked around the basement. There were quite a few road signs, traffic cones, a few more TVs than was usual, some still with price stickers on the screens. She raised an eyebrow at Peter who only shrugged and looked a little embarrassed.

"It's a quiet neighbourhood," Magda continued as the two came to join her on the sofa, poured them all some tea "You were bored, weren't you honey?"

Peter nodded, drew breath, and gave both Angela and his mother an anguished look

"I don't do that sort of thing any more, I promise" he babbled, "I was really young and really confused and I'd just been expelled and I didn't have any friends and yeah I was kinda bored but really I was just kinda bad too and honestly, I never did anything worse than steal stuff and sometimes graffiti and this one time I did break someone out of the Pentagon but honestly I've never broken a law that wasn't just waiting to be broken and –"

He stopped dead, wide eyed, trembling slightly. Two hands rested on his shoulders – one Angela's and the other his mother's

"Hush, Peter" Angela said kindly, squeezing his shoulder, "You're prattling"

Magda gave her an admiring look. She'd never seen anybody else cut her son off in mid-flow like that, and to her surprise he didn't immediately begin again but instead picked up his cup and sipped his tea quietly for a minute. That was astounding. Could this girl actually… handle him?

"So you must be, umm, 'gifted' too, Angela" she said, feeling a little awkward. It felt strange to pry, perhaps she was shy about it, "Are you – are you fast, like Peter?"

"Oh! No… I can barely run at all!" Angela laughed, but it sounded strained, "I'm… I can…."

"She manipulates electricity" Peter explained, taking her gloved hand. She gave him a grateful smile, "Like Dad can do with metal"

"How interesting" Magda sipped her tea, regarded the girl. She forgot that some Mutants looked so totally ordinary, not like her boy who had always been different in every way. He played up to it these days with flashy clothes and attitude, but it hadn't always been that way. Once, she'd even had to restrain her laughter whilst she took a bottle of dye-stripper to his beautiful silver locks, Peter having dyed it what was intended to be brown. It had gone a bright firetruck red instead, but came out easily enough. After that he'd just put up with his unusual hair, eventually coming to like it and match it with metallic silver jackets and trainers which would have looked ridiculous on an ordinary brown-haired boy.

"Peter tells me you work in the library" Angela said, "That must be awesome, do you get to take out more books than other people?"

Magda laughed outright at that. How could working in a library be interesting to a girl who went to a school for super-powered kids? She sobered quickly though, remembering how badly Peter had wanted to be normal. Maybe normality was fascinating to those who couldn't achieve it.

"It's nice, it's just a few hours a week though. Just to get me out of the house. And no, I can only take out as many books as an ordinary member," she smiled gently, "But I do get to read them when it's quiet"

She finished her cup, and gave them both a fond smile as she stood

"Peter would you please put out the folding bed? It's going to be very late for you to get back the Westchester tonight, you should stay"

"The… one folding bed?" he asked, uncertainly

"You're a grown man," Magda laughed, "I can cope with the two of you sharing a bed. If that's alright with both of you of course?"

They agreed too quickly. Shared another blush. Peter mouthed a curse and got a hard look from Magda.

"Get on with it then, and mind your language. I'm going to start dinner"


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Angela had thought her father was an amazing cook, but Magda knocked his best into a cocked hat. She wondered if the woman was always so prepared, or if they'd just caught her at the right time, producing a veritable feast that had made Angela's jaw drop when she called them to the table. They made a happy trio, chatting and laughing as if this had always been the way things were. She was so relieved that Magda was such a wonderful woman, so accepting of her. Before she'd found out that the pleasant lady she'd met last Summer was Peter's mother, she had pictured her as a female version of Erik. She couldn't have been further from the truth. Where Erik was hard and unyielding, Magda was gentle and warm – Angela was glad that it had been her who had raised Peter, and not his father. Keeping up a steady patter, making them laugh and feel welcome, she had continued to pile food on the two young people's plates until even Peter had waved it away, sitting back in his chair and looking a little dazed. His mother smiled and reached to ruffle his hair.

"Why don't you go sit down? Angela and I can clear away"

With her son out of the way, Magda let the girl keep quiet for a little while, helping her wash up and clear the table, until at last she had said quietly

"You're good for him, you know" Angela smiled shyly, dried another dish, "I don't know if you're just friends or something else, but you do him good"

"He's good for me too" Angela replied at last, smiling genuinely up at Magda.

"I don't mean to be rude," she said carefully, handing the girl a plate to dry, "But how does it work between the two of you? Peter could never slow down enough for anyone to cope, how do you manage?"

 _Well, Ms Maximoff, sometimes I manipulate his brain so that he can chill out with me…_ Angela thought, gaping for a moment before she said "I… don't know. We both try. It works out somehow"

"Can you – change him, in some way?"

Oh dear, maternal instincts were really something. Angela had never thought to ask Peter if his mother was a Mutant too, and was becoming a little frightened that she was a telepath and could read all the panicky thoughts that were running through her head. She quickly put down a casserole dish before she dropped it, took a deep breath and said

"I can use my gift to slow him down temporarily. It… took a little practice, but I can do it now, when he asks me to. We don't always do that though – sometimes I just let him run. It's what he does best"

Magda gave her a broad smile and a little eye roll at that. It had always been what he did best. Towards trouble, and away from responsibility and connections. Back to his basement to hide. At least now he had a bigger track to run on. She thought for a moment, before she had asked

"Does it hurt him?" _Damn it!_ Angela thought, "I mean, electrical powers… do you give him a shock?"

"Only when I don't mean to" she raised a hand and concentrated a moment, showing Magda the little spark she could now produce and contain at will. The Professor was teaching her how to make much bigger arcs. She was no Jubilee, but it still looked pretty cool to her. "I can sort of work on people's bodies, make their brains work differently. I can hold him at a normal speed for a while, but not for long"

"But does it hurt?" Magda repeated, a little apprehensive when the girl looked down at the dishtowel as if it was terribly interesting.

"I hurt him once," she whispered, "The first time I found out I could do that to people – he… well, he got kind of sick afterwards. Only for a little while though"

Magda regarded her. She felt like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. This woman doted on her son so much, and she'd just admitted to having hurt him. To her surprise, after a moment the older woman smiled faintly and asked

"Came over all tired and dizzy, maybe a little pukey?"

"Yeah," Angela said weakly, "Like that. But only for a few hours, then he was okay"

She was shocked to hear a soft laugh from Magda, looking at her with humour sparkling in her dark eyes.

"He used to do that all the time. Little rascal was terrible for wearing himself out" she chuckled, then looked more serious, "He'd have done that to himself anyway, Angela, it's a work of main force and determination to keep Peter from destroying himself with his speeding. But you don't hurt him otherwise, with your powers?"

"I don't think so. He says not"

"Good" she said firmly, nodded. Dried off her hands and took Angela by the shoulders to look her full in the face, "because if you harm a hair on my son's head, you'll have me to answer to. Got it, girlie?"

Angela nodded. Suddenly she was realising that Magda was *way* scarier than Erik.

"Good." She repeated, then pulled the girl into a tight embrace, "It broke my heart seeing Peter grow up so alone, I like seeing him happier now – it's been a very long time coming. Just look after him, okay? He'll always be my baby boy, I couldn't stand to see him hurt"

"I will," she was surprised at how much she really loved this fierce, kind woman already, "I promise"

"I'm glad, now go see if he's asleep already"

"Ha! Really? I don't think so"

Magda smiled conspiratorially at her

"There's more than one way to slow Peter down, you know" she winked, "Mothers know best"

Downstairs, Peter was laying back on the folding bed. He'd changed into pyjamas, and looked almost unbearably sweet laying with his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed until she had spoken.

"Hey. You okay?" _you're not doing your Roadrunner act, are you sick?_

He groaned a little, smiled up at her as she joined him on the bed and ran a hand through his hair,

"Fine… ugh, food coma"

She laughed at him kindly, planted a little kiss on his forehead that brightened his smile to its full brilliance.

"Don't tell me that The Insatiable Peter Maximoff has actually eaten too much?"

"No!" he protested, reconsidered, "Well… maybe I didn't really need that sixth helping"

With what looked like an effort he raised himself onto his elbows, seeking her lips for a kiss

"Did you and Mom get on alright?"

"Oh yeah, yeah…" Angela said breezily, moving to start changing into her own pyjamas, "We had girl talk. I told her I sometimes shocked your brain to make you keep still. It was cool"

"You told her WHAT?!" he yelped, sitting up suddenly then collapsing back with a groan, "Seriously don't make me do that, it won't be funny at all if I throw up on you"

"Serves you right, dude. You're not getting any sympathy out of me"

He sighed, throwing an arm around her shoulders as she came to join him and pulled the covers up over them.

"It was fine, Peter. She's a lovely woman. We get on great," she snuggled in and gently kissed his cheek, continued her stroking of his hair. She'd have to remember this if she ever wanted to make him rest without using her gift. She yawned, finding the hollow under his collarbone that seemed made to hold her head and closing her eyes with a lazy smile.

"Tha's good," he muttered, starting to doze himself, "I'm glad you like my Mom. I'm gladder that she likes you though"

"I hope my Dad will like you" she replied. She couldn't see, but she knew his eyes had flown open in shock, "When I take you to meet him tomorrow"

"Gee, thanks for all the warning" he grumbled, feeling her shake with laughter beside him.

"Go to sleep, you fat pig" she chided, "You've got a big day ahead of you"


	3. Chapter 3

Magda woke to a weird _ratatatatatatatatatatat_ outside, blinking wearily and wondering what on earth was going on out there before she had remembered that her son was at home and realisation sunk in. Wrapping herself in a dressing gown and going downstairs to the delicious smell of freshly brewing coffee. She missed having someone around to make the coffee sometimes – had bought an electric coffee machine with a timer a while back but found that waking to that scent just made her nostalgic, when it wasn't Peter who had put a pot on to brew. He was so thoughtful, that boy. He didn't even drink coffee – could barely stand the smell of the stuff, in fact – which was probably some kind of protective mechanism, as though his body knew it wouldn't do him any good. She shuddered to think of what he'd be like full of caffeine. Pouring herself a cup, she walked out into the backyard where Peter was playing himself at basketball, even saving some shots before they hit the hoop just to make it more of a challenge. She smiled a little sadly, remembering when he'd been kicked off the basketball team – the coach had told her he wasn't a team player, but really he was just too quick to need the rest of the team. Without warning, the ball had skittered into a corner and her son appeared in front of her. She'd been too used to him for too long to jump, only gave him a lazy waking-up grin and said

"Morning, handsome"

"You wanna shot a few hoops with me?" he asked eagerly. She laughed and shook her head

"It's six o'clock in the morning, Peter. I don't shoot hoops at this time"

"I've been up for ages," he was over picking up the ball again, a flash and he was saving his own shot, then at the other end of the yard bouncing the ball so rapidly it was a blur, "Didn't want to wake Angie yet, she needs soooooo much sleep"

She only smiled into her coffee, standing in the warm early sunshine and watching her boy race around, playing against himself at a speed she couldn't even perceive. If anything, it looked like he was even faster than he ever had been now, and in good shape too – the Academy training programme must be suiting him. It felt good to see him so carefree. She'd set the hoop up in the back yard to get him out in the sunshine, worried about how pale he'd grown over a couple of years hiding away downstairs, but even now that he was clearly getting out plenty his skin was still a delicate shade of moonstone that was almost iridescent in the sunlight.

"She's a lovely girl" Magda told him. She lost track of his movements, before he had materialised at her side with the basketball tucked under one arm, "I'm glad you have someone like her in your life now"

Was that another blush, or were his cheeks just flushed from exertion? She knew the truth, Peter never got red in the face from running about, his natural hyper-fitness stopped that.

"She's not my girlfriend you know" he said, studying the basketball intently, "She's… a friend, who's a girl. And she's great, yeah, but -"

"Why not?" Magda asked, drawing his attention and a puzzled frown, "Why isn't she your girlfriend?"

"Because I'm…" _I'm too much, she couldn't handle that, I can't inflict myself on her like that_

"Because you're shy, Peter" she smirked. "But I can see you like her. And don't worry, she's got the Mom Seal of Approval"

"I'm not shy!" he said, drawing himself up to his full height. _Oh God, if he starts pouting now I'm going to crack up_ , Magda thought, but kept it to herself. Her words seemed to sink in suddenly, and he gave her an appealing look, "Really, you like her that much?"

She hesitated, slid an arm around her son's waist and gave him the kindliest of her smiles

"You do," she said, "Even knowing what she can do to you"

He nodded, allowed her to reel him in against her, leaned his head on her shoulder. Was there anything so great as a Mom Hug? He didn't think so.

"She's never hurt me on purpose, Mom" he said quietly, "When she uses her powers, it's.. amazing. It's like….."

"Being normal" she finished for him. "But you're not normal, Peter. And neither is she. Two people like you, you should be enjoying what you can do in the world with the gifts that you have. Not hiding from them"

She set her coffee down on the lawn-table and drew him into a tight embrace, feeling the hard, tight muscles in his back twitch under her fingers. Exactly when had her little boy grown into this strong, lithe young man? When had she started being able to bury her face in his chest like this and hear the buzz of his heartbeat? It seemed like yesterday that he was a wisp of a kid running himself ragged, having to be tucked up in front of the TV and spoon-fed ice cream until he didn't look so deathly. She could feel the thrumming energy in his body making it uncomfortable for him to stay still any longer. He offered her that rarest of smiles, full of understanding and an odd maturity that she didn't remember seeing there before.

"Thanks, Mom" he said quietly, big brown eyes shining with something she couldn't name, perhaps gratitude and perhaps excitement, with a hefty dose of apprehension thrown in

"What for?"

"For bein' kind to her even though she sometimes zaps me. I can take it, I swear"

She nodded, let him go. It was cruel to hold on when he needed to move so badly.

"I hope you're right honey" a tense, sad smile, "I just don't want anybody to hurt my baby, that's all"

"Mom!" he rolled his eyes, "I'm like, totally a superhero now. A girl isn't going to hurt me!. I can help save the world and stuff"

 _And you're still my baby boy,_ she thought, _and I'll kill anyone who harms you no matter what…_

"Can we make pancakes?" He said suddenly. A flash of silver and he'd put the basketball away, returned to bounce on his heels eagerly in front of her, "Please? I miss your pancakes so much"

She laughed at him, taking his arm to lead him back into the kitchen.

"Of course. Didn't you already have breakfast if you've been up ages?"

"Twice" he told her, "It's virtually lunch time"

In the cool of the kitchen she busied herself, allowing Peter to help as much as he could without knocking everything over. She was going to miss the person-shaped whirlwind helping her, it got everything done so fast. Just as she had been ready to start dishing up a pile of pancakes, she'd looked round to see Angela emerge into the kitchen, covering a wide yawn and with her golden hair mussed into a halo around her head.

"At last!" Peter exclaimed, rushing over to give her a morning hug, "I thought you were never going to wake up!"

"Yeah well _someone's_ stomach kept me awake last night" she muttered, not unkindly, allowing him to rush her over to the table, gratefully taking the cup of coffee that materialised in front of her, "I'm surprised you slept through it, dude. Good morning Ms Maximoff"

"Good morning sweetheart" she beamed at the girl, "And it's Magda, please. Do you want honey, or maple syrup?"

"Both" Peter answered for her, "Oh… sorry – you weren't talking to me"

The women exchanged a look that was part exasperation, part amusement, and all adoration for the whirling dervish setting another place at the table, fetching plates and darting over to kiss her playfully on the nose before returning to help his mother bring everything over. She smiled in a pained manner – Angela really wasn't a morning person, needed at least two cups of strong coffee to bring her round before she could really function. Peter on the other hand was a morning, afternoon, evening, night and anytime there was food or fun person, waking up already with his foot on the accelerator.

"You'd better calm down before you meet my Dad you know," she warned. Peter swallowed a huge mouthful and looked up at her in terror, "Don't tell me you'd forgotten?"

"I was hoping I dreamed you saying that" he confessed

"Peter!" Magda chided, "Don't be so rude"

Angela giggled, poured maple syrup on her second pancake, and met Magda's eyes with amusement lurking in her own

"It's okay. He's probably right to be scared" a meaningful look at the boy across from her, who was occupied with shoving down his third breakfast, "Dad's nice and all but he's not as nice as you"

"Bring her back anytime," Magda told her son, "Flattery will get her everywhere"

Later, when they had packed up downstairs and got their few belongings together, Angela waited at the end of the driveway whilst Peter said goodbye to his mother. Some things really didn't need her interference, and she figured that was one of them. All the same, she couldn't help but smile fondly as the woman gave him one last hug before letting them go.

"Behave yourself," she warned, "Don't run yourself sick, do your homework, go to your classes, and for goodness sakes learn to pick up your dirty socks if you want to keep that girl"

"Yes Mom" he groaned, amused.

"And here – I almost forget" she handed him the little bottle that had been delivered along with him when he'd last come back to stay a while, "Use them if you need to, please. I'm sure Angela will appreciate it"

"Sure," he tucked the bottle into a jacket pocket without looking at it, raised an eyebrow sarcastically, "I'll make sure to take drugs to make myself more attractive to a girl. Thanks, that's great parental guidance"

"Don't be such a smartass" she warned, "You know how you get. Dr McCoy gave you those for a reason"

They parted at last, regretfully, and he joined Angela on the short walk to the bus station.

"What are the pills?" she asked, curious. He shrugged, hands in his pockets, didn't look up at her.

"Just some stuff Hank made to keep me off my leg when it was healing" he said. He'd already told her about that nasty injury, now a distant memory, which had left his bones sticking out through the leg of his pants. Of course he was far braver in his retelling of it, and had absolutely not cried on his father's shoulder whilst the furry doctor pulled everything back into place "I don't need them anymore. It'll give them back when we get home"

Truthfully he thought it might be a better idea to find someplace to ditch them now. They were a tempting little weight in his pocket, the memory of the peaceful wooziness and virtual immobility they brought on was delicious, and he didn't quite trust himself not to take any more just to get some rest from his busy mind. In fact, it was way too attractive an idea to take a couple before they got to Angela's Dad's, just to take the edge off the churning anxiety he felt and settle him down so that he didn't bounce off the walls. He might make a better impression on Mr Goldsmith if he was just a little more laid back. Then again, he thought, maybe meeting her father for the first time stoned out of his mind wasn't the wisest course of action. As though reading his thoughts, Angela smirked and took his hand, saying

"Maybe they'd help you not be so scared of meeting Dad"

He snorted at her, squeezed her hand too hard.

"I'm not scared!"

At least that was half the truth. He wasn't scared – he was downright terrified.


	4. Chapter 4

**Your views are the little rays of sunshine that have made my day better today. Thank you so much - hope you keep enjoying this!**

Looking up from her book, Angela smiled at the boy beside her, proud at how well he was coping with this. A long bus journey and then an intercity train had to be torture for him – even if they had made sure to take a break between the two for him to run off some energy in a park. Fiddling with one of those plastic bands he used to help him keep calm when he had to be still, one foot blurring as he tapped it on the floor, eyes unreadable behind his mirrored wraparound shades, he still looked pretty damned nervous to her. She laid her book aside, taking him by the shoulders to get him to turn and lean against her body, burying her face in his hair and whispering

"You okay, Puppydog?"

He nodded. She didn't believe it for a second. He was so tense he was vibrating against her, gently trailing her fingers round him to rub his belly – it calmed him down when he was getting het up, hence her nickname for him. He really was just like a bouncy little pup that liked having its tummy tickled. This little pup currently looked like he had just chewed up his master's best shoes, however, and was waiting for the newspaper to fall.

"Don't be so nervous," she whispered soothingly in his ear, "Dad's going to love you, I was just winding you up earlier"

"It'd be nice if you didn't do that" he snapped, the plastic band whizzing round his fingers even faster, "I'm wound up enough"

She could see that, and regretted her teasing a little. Usually he didn't mind – it was so much a part of how they interacted to tease one another that she sometimes forgot that Peter was just a tiny bit of an emotional car-wreck on occasion. She stilled the movement of her fingers to hold him tightly round the waist, his entire body felt stiff and unyielding against her – damn it, the poor boy was absolutely terror-struck.

"It's only a couple more stops. You can go for a run before we meet up if you like – blow off some steam" thinking to herself _Your Dad is Magneto and you're making all this fuss about meeting mine…._ "I bought some of Hank's bars with me if a snack would help?"

He curled his lip in a disgusted sneer, shook his head. Truthfully a bite to eat might have helped, but he'd be damned if he was eating those things unless he was absolutely desperate. Hank had come up with them as a way to keep him fed on missions where stopping for burgers was untenable – and to try to break him of his chronic junk food habit. He'd tried every physical health check imaginable to prove that really, he should cut back on the grease and sugar, but been proven damningly wrong every time the results came back perfectly healthy. Peter avoided them whenever he could, unsurprisingly since Hank had hardly formulated them for their taste. Like any good foodie he preferred not to eat things that reminded him of cardboard and wall-tack.

Finally, the train had arrived at their stop, Angela catching up with him at the gates to the station and reaching to take his hand. She almost suggested they cancel and go home, he looked so sick with worry.

"What are you so scared about, Peter?" she asked, reaching to push his shades onto the top of his head and seeking his eyes with hers, "Dad's just a regular nice guy, he won't bite you"

"That's what I'm afraid of" he told her, "He's… normal. What the hell is he going to think of me?"

"Truth be told he'll probably think you're either mentally ill or on drugs, but that's cool. He's a psychiatrist, he'll just take you the way you are"

"Great so I'm gonna walk out of this with a diagnosis" he muttered, allowing her to lead him up the street. She laughed kindly at him.

Angela's house was bigger than he had expected, not doing his nerves any good at all. His own family home was so modest compared to it that he felt like he was going to be met at the door by a footman. Instead, the door was opened to reveal a tall, slightly tubby man with wisps of iron-grey in his blonde hair, piercingly blue eyes caught in nets of fine wrinkles that regarded him harshly from behind rimless spectacles, unsmiling and stern. Peter took him in with a quick up-and-down flash of his eyes – casual slacks, worn-looking shoes, a t-shirt for a band he'd never heard of, and a gun in his belt.

 _A Gun In His Belt?!_

Peter honestly thought he was going to be sick. The unsmiling man rested one hand on the butt of the gun, taking in the wide-eyed shock on the boy's face before he had pulled it from his belt. Totally uncharacteristically, Peter was too stunned to even react, astonished that Angela seemed so utterly calm, feeling his pulse pounding faster than ever as Dr Goldsmith raised the gun at him.

"Dad!" Angela laughed, "Stop it, he's already terrified!"

At last, her father cracked a grin that brought twinkling humour into his eyes, and pulled the trigger. Peter still stood frozen in terror as a blast of water hit him straight in the face.

"Dad, this is Peter – the boy I've been telling you about" Angela could hardly control her laughter, grabbing Peter's hand to drag him into the house, "thanks for nearly killing him with fright and all but do you think we could go sit down now?"

Dr Goldsmith roared with laughter – a sound that came up from his boots and reverberated through the hallway as he grabbed his daughter up in a hug, both of them shaking with giggles. He wiped a tear away and stuck out one hand to shake

"I'm sorry Peter, I couldn't resist. It's nice to meet you at last. Come in – please – Angela has told me so much about you"

She pulled out of the embrace and looked at Peter, frowning in concern at the pale shade of green he'd gone

"Hey man, are you okay?" she said, concerned. Her voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. She didn't move fast enough to catch him as his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled, collapsing to the floor in a dead faint.

The next thing he knew, there was a murmur of voices close by and he was laying down somewhere with a cool cloth on his forehead. He couldn't believe it – he'd never fainted like that before, not even when Jean had smacked his head into a wall in training by accident. Blinking at the light, he looked up to see Angela sat beside her Dad, perched on the arm of his chair, heads together in what looked like deep communion.

"Ahh, the sleeper awakes!" Dr Goldsmith remarked, seeing him stirring, "Are you feeling better now?"

In truth he felt like he'd been hit by a freight train, but he nodded and manhandled himself into sitting.

"Does he talk?" the man asked his daughter. Angela laughed again, replying

"Usually he never shuts up, I think you really did a number on him"

"I'm sorry, it was just a joke" he seemed genuinely apologetic, those expressive blue eyes showing a deep unhappiness at the idea he'd got off to a bad start with the boy, "Can we start over maybe? I'm Max Goldsmith"

He held out a hand again. This time, Peter shook it and mumbled

"Peter Maximoff. Nice to meet you" he glared at Angela, who only shrugged and smiled at him. "I see where she gets her pranks from now"

Max laughed again, making him jump

"It's important to have a sense of humour Peter. We don't get far in life without one." _Yeah, sure,_ Peter thought, _because making me think I'm gonna get shot is so hilarious,_ "I hope the two of you are staying? It would be good to get to know you a little. As I said, Angela has told me a lot, in fact she never stops talking about you"

"Dad!" Angela blushed crimson, tweaking her father's ear, "Stop!"

"Well you don't, Pumpkin" he told her, "In fact I feel like I know Mr Maximoff already"

Finally, Peter found his tongue, trying to be cool and casual and coming out strained and tense. He felt like his voice had gone up an octave, could feel his legs shaking

"Likewise, Sir. Angela is a pretty big Dad Fan"

"Oh stop, you'll give me an ego! Come on, let's go get some lunch. I thought I'd take you both out – I'm on vacation, I don't feel like cooking"

"Awww…. Really?" Angela sounded disappointed

"Well okay I made a lemon meringue pie for later. That still your favourite?"

"Of course!"

"Well then let's go get some lunch and we can have dessert when we get back. Does that suit you two young things?"

Peter was intensely glad that the restaurant that Max led them to was quiet at this time of day, feeling a little unable to handle too much stimulus just at this moment. Whilst the man made every effort to chat to him, somehow he just couldn't think of anything to say – his thoughts were a messy blur, blending together into one big spiral of panic that seemed to shout inside his head, _oh god he thinks I'm normal, he's just treating me like I'm normal, how do I keep this up?_ as they took their seats, ordered drinks, and picked up menus.

"I shouldn't really have come here" Max admitted, eying the menu greedily, "I should be watching my weight – I imagine you're the same Peter, being a runner?"

Angela snorted into her Coke, receiving an amused look from her father.

"Ohh.. uh, yeah…." Peter managed, "But umm, I can take a day off right?"

"Exactly!" Max grinned at him, "No good depriving ourselves all the time"

Beside him, Angela was killing herself with silent laughter behind her raised menu, resting one foot over Peter's under the table. He tried to smile at her, tried to centre himself and relax the way they had taught him at the Academy, finding that he was far too much of a mess to do so. He thought desperately for something to say, finally managing to blurt out

"So you're a shrink, right?" Max smiled kindly at him, regarding him over his glasses in a way that reminded him of Hank McCoy just a little too much.

"That's right. I have my own practice – though these days I do a lot of free work too, at a welfare centre. There are a lot of sick people on the streets and none of them could afford to pay me, but they need my help all the same"

"That's… real nice of you"

"If we all do our little part we can make the world a better place," he said earnestly, returning to study the menu for a minute or two before he went on, "And yourself? Angela tells me you're part of some kind of team at the Xavier Academy, that must keep you very busy"

"Yeah, yeah it's… um…"

"They're an emergency aid force" Angela came to his rescue, "I want to join up myself one day, they do a lot of good"

"Oh I think you need a little time to settle before you go charging off to a warzone, Sparky" her father answered kindly, punching her lightly in the shoulder, "But that sounds great. So you understand what I do then, helping others?"

"I guess" Peter muttered, "It's good to stand up for people"

Finally, after what seemed like an ice age to the nervous boy, a waiter came to take their order. Angela arched her brows at him as he ordered modestly, following her father's lead. He let the pair catch up a little whilst they ate, until at last Angela had sat back and remarked

"Oh wow, I really shouldn't have ordered so much – Peter, do you want these fries? I couldn't eat another bite"

He gave her a grateful look, digging into her leftovers. He'd be starving later after such a small lunch, and anything extra was welcome at this point. In fact he was starting to think Hank's power-bars sounded pretty good.

"I think you must have hollow legs, young man" Max joked, drawing an embarrassed look from Peter. When at last they had finished, they walked back the couple of blocks at a leisurely pace that Peter found agonising to keep up, watched the father and daughter settle quickly into a closeness that he wondered if he would ever share with his own father. Max Goldsmith was so easy, so devoted to putting others at ease, it hurt a little to see how easily he showed his love for his daughter. Angela was in her element, playing up to her devoted Daddy and easily matching his quick wit, keeping Peter involved in the conversation and lightly squeezing his hand whenever he looked like he was getting lost in his head. She'd shared her slice of lemon meringue pie (delicious – he could easily have eaten the whole thing) claiming she couldn't manage it all even if it was her childhood favourite, and tried to keep him comfortable, but all this sitting down was just too much no matter how good the company was. Finally he had excused himself, leaning on the bathroom sink for a moment and splashing water as cold as it would run on his face. He was actually sweating with the effort of keeping still, of not jittering out of his skin, of smiling and making pleasant conversation. Pacing the little bathroom for a minute or two and at last puling the little bottle of pills out of his pocket. Just one wouldn't hurt, he figured – just anything to take the edge off this feeling of bursting with the ache to run. Surely it was okay just to get some tiny chemical help to relax, in this sort of situation? He liked Max, could tell he was doing his level best to put Peter at ease, not realising that he was never going to achieve that. He chewed the tablet, wincing at the bitter taste and rinsing his mouth out at the sink before taking a deep breath and returning to the lounge. It was getting late, and by the time he got back Angela was yawning widely.

"Go to bed if you want, Pumpkin," Max told her, "I've made the twin beds upstairs, don't worry, I won't eat Peter whilst you're gone"

She smiled tiredly, gave him a quizzical look – there was something odd come over him, she thought. Some slightly faraway look in his eyes that she couldn't fathom. Giving him a squeeze goodnight she had made her way upstairs, leaving the two men together. There was silence for a moment before Max had casually said,

"So Peter, do you play pool?"

He nodded. Maybe that pill had been a bad idea. Every other time he'd had them he'd eaten properly first, and this time it seemed to be hitting him a little too hard. He felt a little blurry, though undeniably more relaxed.

"I've got a table downstairs" Max continued, "Come play a few frames with me before you turn in"

 **A/N : Uh-oh.. could this get any worse for him? Well...**


	5. Chapter 5

The pool room was gorgeous, clearly the place where Max came to relax and shut himself away from the world. Peter noticed a great sound system tucked away on a table with approval – nobody who loved music could be entirely bad in his eyes – and marvelled at the full-size table as Max racked the balls up and handed him a cue.

"You're very tense, aren't you?" he said, chalking his cue, "It's alright, I understand"

"You.. you do?" Peter was definitely feeling woozy now, cursing himself for having decided that drugs were the best way to deal with this

"Oh yes. People always get nervy talking to a psychiatrist. They think I can read their mind, but I assure you I can't. Yours in particular, my boy" he gave Peter another look full of humour, "You're a closed book, aren't you? It makes me wonder what you're so worried about"

He removed the rack and lined up the white, making a beautiful break that immediately sent a red ball into a corner pocket. He stepped back to let Peter line up a shot, moving over to a corner bar and getting out two glasses. He hesitated, turned to the boy

"You're Angie's age aren't you?" he asked with a slight frown. Peter shook his head

"Couple years older"

"Ahh, that's fine then" He poured out two big measures of scotch, handing one to the boy and raising it in a toast.

"To new friends?" he offered, clinking glasses and taking a sip. Peter hesitated, then followed suit. To be honest he'd never had scotch. When he'd been younger and far more of a rebellious mess, he'd gone through a little period of stealing cheap vodka and getting briefly and unpleasantly hammered, quickly bringing that period to a halt after the one time he'd drunk so much of it that he'd thrown up. Since then he hadn't touched alcohol, partly because of the nasty memory of that night, partly because it hardly touched him and didn't seem worth it. To his surprise the scotch tasted pretty good, leaving a golden burning warmth in his throat. He took his shot, and missed everything. Leaning in to line up, Max spoke quietly as if to a spooked animal.

"Is it because of your mutation?" he asked. "Because you don't have to be shy"

"You… know about that kind of stuff?" he sipped his drink, unaware that he had finished it until Dr Goldsmith was refilling his glass.

"When my daughter started shorting out the circuits, I looked into it" Max explained, made another beautiful shot and lined up another, "It fascinates me, though I can see why you might be unwilling to talk openly about it. There's a lot of prejudice in the world. Did you ever hear of a man called RD Laing?"

Peter shook his head, went in for his shot and potted the white ball. Max chuckled kindly as the boy went to fetch it from the slot

"He worked with schizophrenic patients. He had the idea that instead of treating them as if they were mad we should value the experiences they have, maybe even listen to them, He thought they could share a lot of wisdom with us. In cultures where they have a shamanic practice, schizophrenia is thought of as a gift – an open line to the gods" he shrugged, "Of course, old RD went about his work in a very odd way and was eventually stripped of his doctorate, but he taught us a lot about how we should view those who were a little different"

He watched Peter carefully, turning the white ball over in his fingers. That glass was empty again, and Max stepped over to refill it yet again.

"So, Mr Maximoff," he mused, "Angela can blow up the electrics – but what can you do?"

Peter paused for a moment, considered, then tossed the pool ball into the far corner of the room behind where Max was standing. The older man whipped round to see it land, seeing instead the boy leaning against the wall examining the ball in his hand.

"Extraordinary," he smiled, "That must come in very useful"

"Mostly it's a pain in the ass" Peter replied, placing the ball on the table and lining up. Not feeling so jittery now, a little more relaxed about showing his gift, he made a good shot and moved too rapidly to see to take another, and another. Three balls down before Max had blinked. He smiled at last, feeling a little less like he was going to explode. He wished Angela had told him that her father knew all about Mutants, it would have made his day a lot easier. He missed the next ball and stepped back, forgetting that he was drinking scotch and downing the glassful, immediately lighting a fire in his stomach. If the stuff only didn't taste good, he could have refused the next refill, knowing it was deeply unwise. Wondering if Hank's pills sat all that well with booze and practically nothing to eat and considering that it was too late now to be concerned.

"You're pretty cool for an old guy" the boy remarked. Max laughed at him

"I like to think of myself as a Groovy Dad" he replied, grinning

"Except you say 'groovy' which nobody has said in like, a hundred years"

"I can see why Angie likes you" Max smiled at him, missing his shot, "You've got a smart mouth for such a jumpy kid"

He allowed Peter to take his shot before he spoke again, sipped his own scotch meditatively

"So how long have you two been together?" he asked innocently, watching the shock pass over the boy's face with a tiny flicker of amusement

"We're… we're not together. Well not 'together' together, just.. sort of, we do things together"

"What kind of things?"

Peter flushed scarlet. Max laughed

"Calm down lad, I'm not going to be a protective Daddy Bear. She's old enough to make her own decisions, and I didn't raise her to be a prude. All I want is to see her happy with somebody, and you're the first boy she's ever brought home, so I guess I struck lucky that you seem to make her very happy indeed"

They finished their game, Max winning hands down, and stood for a few minutes against the bar sipping their drinks in companionable silence. Peter was really starting to feel the scotch now, all the tension slipping out of him in a not entirely unpleasant way. Max wasn't even asking before refilling his glass, and he suddenly wondered if the man was _trying_ to get him drunk, though he couldn't possibly see why he'd do such a thing. Max crossed over to the stereo, popped in a tape and pressed play. Peter grinned widely as he recognised the opening chords to 'Welcome To The Machine". Yep, he could get to like Max.

"I'm very sorry if I came across badly to you earlier," Max said, racking up again and standing aside to let Peter break, "I forget sometimes that others might not share my sense of humour"

Peter could see at least two balls for every one, but somehow managed to break without dropping the cue, shrugged and grinned lazily.

"S'cool. I'm sorry I've been so jumpy all day, it's just…" he thought hard of how to put this, "I can't turn it off, you know. The super-speed thing? It's not just running fast, I'm fast all over. The world goes way too slow for me. It makes things hard sometimes"

To his surprise, Max seemed to grasp what he meant. He nodded, took his shot and fouled, and let Peter have his turn.

"Do you think I'm weird?" the boy asked. Max considered it a moment.

"Only in the way that all the best people are, Peter" he replied with a kind smile, "I think you're a very sweet boy who hasn't found the world a very friendly place so far, and I sincerely hope that changes for you. It hasn't been easy for Angie either. Different people – weird people – always have a hard time fitting in with us normals, and it's not your fault. It's just a very unfortunate circumstance."

He recovered from his foul by potting three in a row, before missing at last. He hadn't noticed that the boy was swaying a bit on his feet, though moving more easily now that he didn't feel he had to keep up a normal pace.

"I think I might be in love with her" Peter said suddenly. Oh hell, that scotch was really hitting the mark, "But I'm not sure, I've never been in love before so I'm not sure what it feels like"

He missed his shot disastrously. Max cleared the table in his next turn, and went over to sit in one of the comfortable armchairs.

"Is this the part where I warn you that if you hurt my daughter I'll kill you with my own two hands?" Max asked, refilling Peter's glass as he came to join him, "I always wondered how that talk would go, but I don't think I need to have it with you. You don't have it in you to harm her or anybody else"

"I thought I was a closed book?" Peter said with a sly smirk

"Closed books still have covers" Max rejoined, "You have a goodness about you that's very obvious. And for the record, I have no idea whether Angie loves you, but she would certainly go to the ends of the earth to see you happy. If you do love her, then I'm sure you will be very content together"

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. They sat together to the end of the album, before Peter had finally decided that being upright was no longer the choice for him and bid him goodnight. Upstairs, Angela was sleeping peacefully, and he did his best to be quiet, considering the other bed for a minute before laughing quietly to himself and squeezing in beside her. In the spill of streetlights from outside she looked almost ethereally beautiful. He brushed one golden lock away from her eyes and smiled, so happy to have her there that it made his heart squeeze almost painfully. He hardly wanted to go to sleep, thought he might just lay awake beside her and watch her, but his eyelids felt so heavy. Thinking he'd just catch a little doze, he turned over and felt her sleepily move to slip an arm around him.

"Hey Puppydog?" she muttered, voice thick with sleep. He grunted in response. "You reek of scotch"

He didn't reply, already deeply asleep. Angela smiled to herself and thought _maybe you'll bounce a little less with a hangover._ Gratefully, she went back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

For a moment, Angela was disoriented, unsure where she was after sleeping in the third different bed in as many nights but also confused for some other reason. In a moment, the cobwebs of sleep cleared enough for her to realise that she still had her arm around a warm and very much asleep Peter. That had never happened before – he was always awake first, usually had been for half the night. He needed so little sleep that he had gotten used to amusing himself through the small hours until the rest of the world decided to join him, and to see him at rest was a genuinely unusual sight. She squeezed him a little tighter, kissed his ear, and got only a little whimper and a frown in response. Downstairs she could hear the small familiar sounds of her Dad getting himself together for the day, and she smiled fondly and got up to dress.

Once ready to emerge, she tried Peter again, tickling the back of his neck and calling his name gently. This time he just rolled over and pulled the covers over his head, making a sound halfway between a moan and a growl at her. She chuckled, fetched a big glass of orange juice and a couple of the power-bars to leave beside him, and went downstairs. Dr Goldsmith was singing along to the radio quietly, not stopping as he saw his daughter and instead coming over to take her by the hands and dance her round the kitchen table, finishing by sweeping her up into a hug.

"How's my favourite daughter this morning?"

"Your only daughter"

"So automatically my favourite" he replied, pouring her a cup of coffee and setting it down for her, "I know, I know, you don't work without caffeine. Drink up. How's Peter this morning?"

"Wrapped in a blanket like a grumpy little bug. How much scotch did you feed him last night?"

"An impressive amount for such a trim boy, I have to say"

She smiled around her coffee, slightly unsurprised. Impulse control wasn't Peter's strong suit, and she could well imagine that her father had been quick with the refills.

"Well he's pretty impressive in lots of ways," she said fondly, "Did you two do the male bonding thing?"

Dr Goldsmith grinned in reply, plugged in the waffle iron to warm, and started setting out plates.

"I think we came to a mutual understanding of sorts. He's a nice kid, Angie, you've done well there"

She laughed in a slightly affronted manner, putting down her coffee and giving her father an incredulous look

"Done well how? He's just a friend, Dad! A… really good friend"

"With whom you share little cuddles and tiny sneaky kisses when you think your beloved _pater's_ back is turned?" he waggled his eyebrows at her, "That's a very good friend"

Angela blushed, smiling to herself. Of course he'd seen how they were together, it was pretty obvious that if they weren't more than friends now, they probably would be soon.

"Okay so maybe there's feelings there," she admitted, "But… I don't know Dad, he's wonderful, he deserves better than me"

"There is no better than you," her father frowned sternly, "Haven't I always told you that?"

"You have to say that. It's in the Dad Contract"

"That doesn't make it any less true"

Upstairs, Peter had surfaced from the best sleep he'd had in months and peered out from under the covers, unwilling to leave the warmth just for the moment, though he could hear voices downstairs and knew he should emerge. Slowly taking stock, working out which bits hurt and which were just complaining, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, almost unthinkingly picking up the glass of juice and downing it. So this was why he'd stopped drinking all that time ago, the next day was just way too awful. Though he didn't usually get hangovers, that was only under circumstances when the booze had come cushioned by a hefty meal and not enhanced by whatever was in those pills, and with the addition of a virtually empty stomach and tranquilisers he was feeling last night's scotch a little more than he liked. Heaving himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, spying the bars Angela had left out and grimacing with distaste. Trying to decide if he was hungry enough to brave them until his belly made the decision for him, starting to protest loudly just at the thought of food. Feeling slightly more normal, he'd dressed and stuffed their things into a bag, ready to go as soon as Angela wanted. As he did so, the little bottle rattled invitingly at him, and he sat back down on the bed with it in his hand, studying the brown glass as if it held some deep wisdom. Just one for the road, perhaps? After all, it was a long trip back to Westchester, and surely Angela would appreciate him not annoying her if he was a little calmer? His head hurt, and despite a couple of Hank's Sawdust Specials his stomach ached, painkillers would do nothing to relieve those little discomforts – they never did for him – but maybe just one pill would help him get himself back together? He considered for a moment, before shaking one out and tossing it down with the last of the juice, sitting for a few minutes until the blissful calm had started to spread through him before making his way downstairs to join the happy pair.

Greeted straight away with a hug that made him a little nauseous, he took a seat at the table and offered Angela a weak parody of his usual chirpy morning grin, she frowned in confused concern, about to say something when Dr Goldsmith had placed a plate of fresh waffles down on the table between them.

"Have it it, kids – and good morning, Peter"

"Good morning, Dr Goldsmith," he said a little robotically, watching Angela take a waffle for herself and hesitate before grabbing his plate and giving him three.

"Need a little time to wake up? There's coffee if you'd like some"

"No!" Angela said quickly, holding out her hand to stop her father moving the pot "He doesn't drink coffee. Really, nobody needs to see that"

Obligingly, Dr Goldsmith poured himself and his daughter more and put the pot down, chatting with her happily and hardly noticing Peter looking between the two with a slightly glazed expression, until Angela had glanced over and frowned deeply

"Don't you want any more?" she asked, indicating his plate still with one waffle left

"Angie stop trying to feed the boy up, he needs to keep his figure for the track"

She gave Peter a strange look, silently asking, _what's wrong?,_ before smiling brilliantly back at her father. If he wanted to play at being normal, then let him – they could always stop for something proper to eat on the way home. It was worrying though, the way he seemed to be looking through her – and she knew Peter, he was incapable of leaving food on his plate. She supposed this must just be what he was like when he was hungover, and helped her father clear away with a little assistance from Peter. When at last they had regretfully decided that they needed to leave, she gave her father a hug that she seemed unwilling to break, looking up at him sadly

"You be good at school Pumpkin," he told her, "Have a great time"

Finally releasing her, he held out a hand to Peter, who stared at it stupidly for a moment before taking it

"It was good to meet you, I hope you'll visit again soon – good luck with everything," he leaned in a little closer, "And look after yourself"

Peter smiled a wavering, odd sort of smile and nodded

"Always do" he murmured, "Thanks for having me – I'll beat you next time"

"I shall look forward to that eventuality, which I predict will come around the time Hell freezes over" Max said kindly, "Have a safe trip, call me when you get back to the Academy"

Walking back to the station, Angela held tight to his hand, worried thoughts running through her mind. Passing a doughnut shop that was setting out trays of tempting delights, she nudged him and asked

"You want to stop for a snack?" surprised when he shook his head and carried on walking. "Wow, dude, you must be so hung over, I'm going to mark this day down in my diary as the day you refused a doughnut"

He smiled weakly at her, and she returned it with a kind beam, unsettled by the distance in his eyes and how quiet he was being. Something was definitely up, and instinct was telling her that it was more than just too much scotch with her father the night before.

"So I like your Mom, and I think you like my Dad. Does that mean something do you reckon?" she asked giving his hand a squeeze. Even more worried when he only looked thoughtful, replying

"Do you want it to mean something?" 

_Yes,_ she thought as loudly as she could, _I want it to mean that we can try and be the couple that everybody already takes us for. I want it to mean you like me how I like you. Mostly I just want you to wake up and cheer up so I can stop worrying about you, though…._

She didn't reply, only moved to tuck a hand into his back pocket and walk with him against her side, comforted by his presence even if she got the distinct feeling that it was in body only.

Once on the train, he had settled against her with her arm around him and her hand gently resting just above his belt-buckle, let her get absorbed into her novel before half an hour in she had realised he hadn't spoken or moved in a long time. Though she could feel the familiar little shivers running through him, he seemed to have dozed off with his head laying back on her shoulder and a little frown pulling at his brows. Something was very wrong with the idea of Peter dropping off on the train, his razor-wire nerves would usually preclude that entirely. Not that she objected to him sitting almost still and letting her read in peace, but it just wasn't him.

Sat in a diner between the train and bus, Angela watched him plodding through lunch in a way that seemed to suggest he wasn't even hungry, keeping his eyes down on his plate and hardly responding to her talking to him – it was an odd turn-around, to be the one nattering at him, and it made her uncomfortable. Finally she had said

"I don't think you should drink. It doesn't seem to agree with you"

"S'not my fault," he muttered back, still not looking up, "Your Dad kept pouring"

"I'll talk to him. He was just trying to make you welcome, but he probably didn't realise you don't usually drink" _because what kid who looks like you doesn't?_ she thought in consternation, _you look like a rock star after all._

Peter only nodded, played with the straw in his drink, gazed up at her with a faraway look that wavered about in a way she didn't like at all.

"He's great y'know," he told her, "Don't be mad with him, he was real good to me"

At last she smiled, reaching to cover one hand with hers and squeeze it gently. She wished he would smile back, but he seemed too tired for that. Whilst she was unutterably glad that the two parental introductions had gone so well, she now seemed to be in the position of hesitating on the next step. Surely Peter wasn't that stupid, not to realise that she had wanted him to meet her father so that she could find out if what she wanted would even work. He was perfect in so many ways, but if he hadn't got on with Max then it would have been the deciding factor in him staying firmly as a very good friend rather than anything else. Over the past months she had realised that her feelings towards him were changing from what she might feel for a very naughty, very cute puppy to a deep and abiding need to have him by her side as far more than a companion. From the outset they had been so physically close, yet despite the kisses and hugs there had been no element of wanting to take it further, but now she wanted to take it as far as it would go. She hoped he felt the same – usually Peter wore his emotions on his sleeve, but in this respect she had found it impossible to tell what he wanted.

She had continued to ruminate all the way back on the bus, Peter seeming to briefly come round until after a stop for the drivers to change over she had stepped off to get them a drink and had returned to find him looking just as dazed as before, soon asleep again with one arm around her, sprawled back in his seat. She could feel his fingers twitching on her shoulder the way they always did when he slept, unable to completely relax even when he was so weary he just had to close his eyes. This had to be some kind of a record, she thought, wondering if he'd even had this amount of sleep in the past month, cementing her thoughts that he should probably stay away from alcohol for the foreseable future, if it did this to him. Not that she minded him dozing – he was unbelievably cute when he was asleep, and he likely needed the rest – but he was barely coming to for meals, and she worried about the effect that was going to have on him. The last thing she wanted was for him to have to be delivered to the infirmary when they got back and spend the night on a drip because he'd been too sleepy to eat properly.

When at last they had returned to the Academy, she had left him to unpack their things and gone down to the common room for a while, spending some much-needed time playing table-tennis with Kurt and catching up with her friends. Though it was nothing compared to how restless Peter got, she felt like she'd been sitting down for weeks and relished the opportunity to run about with the blue boy for a while, assuming that Peter would have headed straight down to the training room once he was done unpacking to deal with all the pent-up energy he must have after the long trip. She was surprised then when she returned to his room to find that he was sat down on the floor cross-legged, staring out of the window with his headphones on, only the little twitching in his feet indicating any of his usual animation. She frowned again, came over to join him

"Hey," she said softly, "you alright?"

"Fine" he answered, more grunted than spoke

"You want to go get something to eat?"

"No"

"Okay…." Had she done something? Was he upset with her? "Wanna come watch TV with me?"

"No"

"Go for a walk? It's a nice evening, we could – "

"No."

"What did I do?" she could feel confused tears welling up in her eyes, hating that he had the power to make her feel like this, "Are you mad with me?"

"No. I'm fine"

"You don't look fine. You don't sound fine"

"I am"

Suddenly she could feel her confusion and hurt turning to irritation. She folded her arms, leaned back against his bed

"I hate it when you brood. It's not like you"

Finally he looked at her. There was still that unpleasant distance in his eyes, and none of the usual whirlwind of deep emotion she was used to seeing there.

"Then why don't you go, and let me do it alone?" he said coldly.

Angela's mouth fell open, hardly believing he was being so mean to her. She had no problem with him wanting time by himself of course – she liked her alone time too – but usually he would at least be nice about it. Dismissing her like that just wasn't like him. Without another word, and without so much as touching him, she got up and left him, closing the door behind her a little too hard and stamping down the corridor toward her own room. As she did so, she studied her feet, blinking hard to clear the angry tears from her eyes. Not looking where she was going, she was unaware she wasn't alone until she had walked straight into someone, jumping back with a little shock. Erik glared at her, picked up the files she had knocked out of his hands,

"Don't you ever look what you're doing?" he snapped. Whilst he had tentatively allowed the girl to exist in his presence for a while now, given that Peter seemed to like her, he still didn't appreciate her carelessness. His annoyance quickly turned to shock however as she didn't apologise, only flung him a venomous look that genuinely stung and carried on up the corridor. Erik thought for a moment, wondered if she was just annoyed about something else or if he should go and check up on his son.


	7. Chapter 7

Erik made a point of always knocking on his son's door and waiting for him to answer, hoping that one day it would sink in that this was the correct thing to do, instead of charging through without invitation. This time, however, he had stood knocking softly for ten minutes before frowning and calling his son's name. The door was yanked open a minute later, and Peter glowered at him

"What?!" he demanded. Erik was too stunned to speak.

"Don't speak to me like that" he eventually managed, pushing past him into the room and standing with his arms folded. Peter leaned against the wall, giving him a challenging look. This really wasn't like his sweet, silly son at all, and neither was his reply

"You speak to me like that all the time. Why shouldn't I?"

"What on earth is wrong with you boy?"

"Nothing. I'm tired" he opened the door and gave Erik a look as if to say _you can leave now,_ "Did you want something?"

It hit Erik like a slap at that point that really, Peter could be a lot like him at times. He'd always thought the boy favoured his mother, with those huge dark eyes and the sweetness in his face, but seeing him cantankerous for the first time he realised there was a lot of himself in him too. He hadn't thought Peter had it in him to be angry, much less to throw his father out of the room. He would almost have admired the nerve if he hadn't been so worried.

"I just saw that girlfriend of yours. She looked irked"

"She's. Not. My. Girlfriend" Peter said, as though talking to a small child, "And I don't care if she's annoyed. I just wanna be by myself, is that too much to ask? People do that you know, spend time alone. It's not abnormal"

He slumped against the wall as if so much talking had worn him out, before he had continued in a softer tone, much more like himself

"I'm sorry Dad. I didn't mean to snap – I'm just really tired, okay? Can we talk about whatever you wanted in the morning? 'cause right now I just want to go to bed"

"I'm leaving tonight. I have business that can't wait" he paused, wondered if he should push a little further, but the boy really did look shattered and he ought to be leaving, "I'll be back on Thursday, if you would graciously agree to see me then?"

Sarcasm dripped from his smile, but Peter was oblivious to it, just nodded and waved a hand in an exhausted manner

"Yeah yeah, sure – have a good trip. I'll see you around, K?"

Erik hesitated in the doorway once more, before leaving and letting Peter close the door behind him. There was definitely something up with that boy, but if it had anything to do with Angela (which he imagined it probably did,) then he was going to let him deal with it himself. He didn't have time for hormonal nonsense, and he wasn't going to stand for being spoken to like that, on the verge of going back and reminding Peter that he wasn't too old to be put over his father's knee. Walking up to his own room to fetch his case, he briefly considered calling Magda and asking if she knew what was wrong with their son, but dismissed the thought very quickly. There was surely no better way to cement her opinion that he was an unfit father than to have to ring to ask what was wrong with Peter. Instead, he bid goodbye to Charles and left, assuming that either Peter would snap out of this mood by himself or somebody would snap it for him.

For the next few days, Angela avoided Peter, spending her time with Jubilation or by herself in the library. She couldn't help but get the impression that she was being talked about, finally tiring of it and asking her friend what was going on. Jubilation chewed the end of her pencil, seeming to consider it, but lying wasn't in her nature and she'd eventually said

"Did you and Peter have an argument?"

"I wouldn't call it that," Angela snapped, "I'm just giving him some alone time, that's all"

"Oh…" said Jubilation dubiously, "Okay then…"

"Why is it anybody else's business whether we spend time together or not anyway?"

"It's not that! It's just…." She looked down, fiddled with her hair, finally looking up at Angela almost apologetically, "You seem really upset, and he's… well he's just not right at all"

She couldn't be more accurate, but she could tell that there was something very wrong with the usually outgoing and boisterous speedster – not least the lack of much actual speeding. He wasn't even sitting in class drumming on the desk, tapping his foot, making paper darts and generally acting like an overgrown toddler with his fidgeting and impatience. Instead he'd just seemed distracted, and the rest of the class had automatically assumed that it stemmed from the fact they hadn't seen the pair who had been nicknamed "Silver and Gold" around together lately.

"I guess I am kind of upset" Angela admitted. Since that first night when the girl had brought her some treats and done her best to make her feel welcome, she'd become very close to Jubilation, and felt she could open up to her "We had a really great weekend away – we stayed with his Mom then my Dad, everything went well, I sort of thought that maybe we were – y'know, going someplace – then when we got back he just wanted me to leave him alone. I'm so confused"

"Oh honey… boys can be such a pain" Jubilation rubbed her shoulder soothingly, "D'you want me to talk to him? I'm sure it's nothing serious, Peter can just be a bit highly strung sometimes"

Though that was the truth, Jubilation couldn't help thinking that lately he'd actually been quite the opposite. Hardly any smart remarks, no pranks, even walking with herself and Kurt down to the lunch room instead of speeding down there before everyone else. That was another thing too – he'd seemed to almost be picking at his food for a couple of days now, sticking to a single helping at lunch and not even sneaking candy into class. At first she'd thought the Professor was trying to get him to curb his gluttony again, before she'd realised that if that were the case then Peter would just be ignoring it, the way he always did. The more she thought about it, the more something seemed wrong. She wasn't sure she liked him being so quiet, too thoughtful, always looking as if his mind were a hundred miles away.

Angela shook her head. She wasn't going to let Jubilation try to sort out her problems, it seemed unfair on the girl.

"It's okay, thanks though. I'm going to talk to Xavier about it – he's all wise and stuff, he'll know what to do"

In truth it seemed very silly to be taking something like this to the Professor, but she couldn't think of what else to do. She really had no idea what was wrong with Peter, and though she told herself that whatever it was had nothing to do with her, she couldn't help feeling that really it did. Putting away her books, she headed up to his study, hoping that he wasn't too busy with a world-saving intervention for her to talk to him about her messy love life.

She wondered if Peter had been doing as much thinking about it as she had, not realising that in fact he had been doing as little thinking as possible for days. He'd even been able to sit though classes and at least look like he was concentrating, though truthfully he had just been sitting staring at the chalkboard allowing his mind to drift. It was a pretty pleasant way to live, in his mind – he wasn't getting a lot done, but at least he didn't feel like a skittish rabbit whilst doing it, bounding from one hole to the next without pause. He'd fallen into a routine of going for a morning run, taking a couple of pills, sitting through classes in a daze and then retiring to his room to read until he took a couple more and went to bed. True, he wasn't really eating properly, but he figured he wasn't doing much to work up an appetite and had ignored his aching stomach growling disconsolately at him. At least he was sleeping through the night, probably for the first time in his life, and at least he didn't feel like a rubber band wound so tight it was about to snap. He had wondered why Angela was avoiding him, but found it difficult to care too deeply about that or anything else, and had been entirely unbothered when Raven had knocked on his door and told him to go to Xavier's study immediately. The thought did cross his mind that he was about to be shouted at for skipping training, but he really couldn't find it in himself to care, sloping up to the office and knocking quietly, standing until he was asked to enter for once.

Surprised to see Angela sat in there too, he had given her an attempt at a smile which she didn't return and taken a seat opposite the Professor. Angela stared at her hands in her lap, not wanting to look at him – she'd been shocked when he walked in at the change in only a few days. His hair looked uncombed, eyes heavy and sleepy as if they had got him out of bed to come here. His jeans looked too loose on him, his cheekbones a little too prominent, and there was something about the colour of his lips that she didn't like one bit. For a moment, the Professor only looked at him, then reached across the desk and held out his hand

"Give me the tablets please, Peter" he said quietly, "all of them"

" _What?!"_ Angela said, appalled, "Seriously, Peter? That's why you're moping around like this? Oh my god I can't believe you sometimes…."

Reluctantly he extracted the almost-empty bottle from his pocket and placed it in Xavier's hand. He didn't retract it, only continued to look at him sternly and repeated

"All of them, please"

Peter fished in his pockets again, sighed impatiently, and gave him a little plastic bag with a few more of the blue pills inside. Charles seemed satisfied, dropping them into a desk drawer and locking it. He was hardly surprised to be having to deal with this – it was a school, after all, and all schools had these sorts of problems sometimes. However despite his proven track record of anti-authoritarian behaviour, he really hadn't expected it to be Peter he would have to discipline for this – he'd thought the boy was far too sensible for that, for all his pranking and silliness.

"Where did you get them?" he asked, fixing the boy with a look which he hoped came across as understanding. Beside the desk, Angela had curled up in her chair, biting her lip and looking on the verge of angry tears. He blocked her whirling thoughts, trying to concentrate on Peter's mind instead, but finding it difficult. Normally a headache-inducing blur that went too fast to see without intense concentration, the boy's mind was… slippery, impossible to catch hold of fully. Turning sleepy eyes on him, Peter shrugged carelessly,

"From Hank, remember? You were there man. He gave them to me after I broke my leg"

Charles recalled it now – Hank had thought it best to concoct some kind of powerful tranquiliser so that the boy would stay off his feet a little more, give his leg time to regain its full strength before he went tearing off at the speed of sound again. At the time he had agreed, never thinking that Peter would be so stupid as to carry on taking them when he didn't need them. He sat back, considered his response. Looked over at the blue-skinned woman standing by the door

"Raven please could you fetch Dr McCoy up here?" he asked, turning his eyes back to Peter, "I think it's best we find out a little more about this"

Angela couldn't hold her tongue any longer, lashing out and aiming a punch at Peter's shoulder, letting her tears fall and yelling at him

"Why the hell would you do this? You could have done yourself so much damage!"

Peter rubbed absently at his shoulder, not really seeming to be hurt, and looked up at her. At least there was something in his eyes now, even if it did seem to be a smouldering irritation that reminded her sickeningly of Erik.

"Just to calm down a bit" he told her sullenly, looked back at the Professor who nodded at him to go on, "So I didn't annoy you so much"

"And you think I'm not annoyed now?" she sobbed at him, genuinely hurt, "When did I ever suggest that I wanted you to be any different, Peter? When did I ever ask that of you?"

"How about all the times you told me to calm down, or be quiet, or sit still?!"

He yelled. Charles was shocked – he'd never heard Peter raise his voice to anybody before, the boy was usually as placid and non-confrontational as they came.

"I didn't mean you should get high! I just meant to relax, not take drugs!"

"They're only tranquilisers, Angie!"

"They're a novel benzodiazepine, and they would kill anyone who didn't have your metabolism" Hank roared, pushing open the door and storming in. "They were also never intended for you to use them long term, you stupid, _stupid_ boy!"

This time it was Peter who was taken aback. Hank was so caring, so timid, it was easy to forget that there was a beast in him. He looked furious, practically snarling and standing over the chair in a way that was undeniably intimidating.

"How much have you been taking?" he demanded, looking as if he want to shake Peter, "Charles, if he lies to me then let me know"

"Only a few… maybe four or six a day. Not much!" he protested. Charles could see him getting ready to bolt, glad at least that he was no longer slumped in the chair virtually sedated, but nonetheless he exerted enough telepathic force to make sure the boy wouldn't try to run.

"Only a few" Hank repeated, seething, "Two should be enough to put you to sleep for eight hours, Peter, how are you even standing on six a day?" Tell me you haven't been mixing them with alcohol as well, please dear god"

"Only once," the boy said in a small voice. He looked so young suddenly, so much like a scared kid dragged to the principal's office again, "I swear"

Hank took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes, turning away for a moment and taking a deep breath, trying to exert some control over himself. When he looked back and spoke again, his voice was quieter but no softer

"You could have killed yourself" he spat.

"He's handed them over, Hank" Charles said soothingly, "That's enough now, you're scaring him" he could feel Peter's mind fluttering like a trapped bird, beating a way to escape. At least it felt more like his mind now, not that strange, syrupy substance.

"I hope I am scaring him, Charles, he deserves a good scare after being so damned –"

"Hank" the Professor interrupted, "Please. It's done. He doesn't have any more. Now, do you want to take him to the infirmary and make sure he's alright?"

"No." the doctor grunted, giving Peter an evil glare, "Go to your room and go to bed. Eat plenty, get lots of rest. You'll be fine once they're out of your system. And stay out of my way until I've calmed down"

Charles drew back his telekinetic force and let the boy go. Immediately papers flew wildly off his desk and the door banged behind him as he shot out of the room like a bullet. Sighing, the Professor held out a tissue to Angela and smiled tiredly

"Are you alright?" she nodded, snuffled, "Don't blame yourself for this. People make their own choices, sometimes very foolishly. Go get yourself sorted out and come see me if you need to"

She left the office for Xavier to try to pacify Hank, tried not to cry as she walked through the corridors and shut herself in her bedroom for the rest of the afternoon. Her feelings were in utter turmoil – how could Peter have possibly thought she wanted him that way? They'd talked enough and spent enough time together that she knew his hyperactive mind and body were a burden on him at times, but she never thought he'd go to the length of drugging himself just so that his jittering didn't irritate her. She had dwelt on it for a long while, trying to find an answer to the problem, until at last she had sat up, realisation dawning crystal clear in her mind. Why would he want to slow down for her? Maybe so he could be with her more. Maybe so that he could wake up with her, walk with her without the agony of having to match her pace, keep more of a leash on his emotions so she didn't have to soothe him all the time. Maybe he'd done it because he cared. The thought made her feel a little better.

Later, when she had taken a walk out and cleared her head, Angela waited to be invited and pushed open the door of Peter's room. As instructed, he'd gone back to bed, but was laying on his back reading rather than trying to sleep. He put the book down as she entered, giving her a shamefaced look, unable to decide how to apologise. She gave him a warm smile, tried to say with it, _it's okay_ , and came to sit on the bed beside him.

"You're really dumb sometimes, you know that?" she said, not unkindly, "but you know what? I wouldn't change you for the world"

He thought about it, searching her face for any silent unspoken 'but…' and finding none.

"I'm so sorry. I just thought it would be easier for you spending time around me if I was a little slower. I didn't think… well it seemed like a good idea at the time"

"Famous last words, Puppydog," she remarked drily, picking up the white box she'd brought with her and laying it on his middle, "I went to Patisserie Valerie, thought you might appreciate a peace offering"

"Does that mean you forgive me?"

"Would I walk all the way across town to get cream cakes for someone I haven't forgiven?" she asked, "Now are you gonna eat these or do I have to feed them to you?"

He groaned a little, reached for her hand almost unconsciously

"Can you take the box off me maybe? It's kinda heavy and I just had dinner"

"So eat the contents, then it won't be heavy anymore"

"Your Dad's right, you are trying to feed me up" he grinned at her, allowing her to pull out a chocolate éclair and shove a big bite into his mouth

"Right now, you need it," she told him, "You look skinny, and it doesn't suit you"

When she had practically force-fed him all but one of the pastries, which he had absolutely refused unless she wanted to make him sick, she'd laid the box aside and stretch out beside him, grinning at seeing the light back in his eyes and gently tucking a few locks of hair behind his ear.

"Don't ever change for me" she said suddenly, "I don't want you to. I never wanted you to. You're a glorious little pain in the ass, and I like you that way"

He looked over at her, smiled, reached out to run a finger over her lips. She kissed his fingertip and he chuckled at her.

"It's not an easy job being around me, you know. I mean you've met my Mom, she's the only person who's ever been able to stand me for an extended period of time. You think you're up to the challenge?"

She made a show of thinking about it, then nodded

"Definitely. I love a challenge. The faster and more annoying the better"

Drawing her closer to him with an arm around her, he ran his fingers through her hair and smiled again,

"That's good. Because I'm not getting any slower or less annoying"

There was peace between them for a few minutes, until he had quietly said

"Hey Static?" she wrinkled her nose at the nickname. It had stuck, but thank goodness nobody else had picked it up yet, "Would you maybe rub my stomach for me? I feel like I swallowed a bowling ball"

She laughed at him, couldn't even call him a pig since it was her fault, and obliged, eventually closing her eyes and dozing off beside him, neither of them knew another thing until a knock at the door had woken them the following morning, and Raven had stuck her head around the door to say

"Erik wants to see you in his study," she paused, "Both of you"

They exchanged a look, each wondering if the other was more scared.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all so much for following this story. Again I've enjoyed writing it and loved your reviews. I will of course continue to take prompts (I have a couple to work on!) and requests, but if I don't update as frequently then you can blame that pesky 'Real Life Job' I have. Keep reading, writing, and reviewing my fine Ficcynet friends, and enjoy the final part of this one.**

Brushing out her hair, Angela tried to think of something comforting to say to the boy pacing the room agitatedly. After that first time when they had both been hideously embarrassed for him to undress in front of her, they'd both quickly gotten used to seeing each other get ready, though at that moment it hardly mattered – Peter had sprung out of bed and been out of the shower and dressed within minutes, whilst Angela had been necessarily more leisurely, which gave him a lot of spare time to wind himself up before they went to see his father.

"I'm sure he just wants to check on you" she eventually managed, "Like he always does when he gets back from business"

"He doesn't usually come back to find out I've been getting high for the past few days though. He's going to kill me – and why does he want you too? This isn't good dude, I can feel it, he's gonna be so mad"

He was yammering too quickly again, but Angela resisted the urge to tell him to calm down – after all, that had caused problems recently. At least he was getting back up to speed now though – she never thought she'd miss the twitchy, restless anxiety, but after seeing him drugged out of his mind she was grateful to see it back. Catching him mid-pace, she gave him a tight hug, feeling the vibrating energy running through him again

"It'll be okay, Puppydog"

"You don't know him," Peter told her. There was a little shake in his voice that it hurt her to hear, "He's…. well, he's got a pretty bad temper"

"So I guess I'll have to get to know him," Angela said soothingly, "After all, you've met my Dad now, I should return the favour"

"He's not called us in to take us out for breakfast, Angie. It's a little different"

"I don't care if he's mad with me, Peter" she told him, squeezing him hard, "I didn't do anything, he's got to understand that"

"Dad, being reasonable? Boy are you ever in for a shock"

"So is he, if he gets at you too much," she smiled grimly, "Nobody upsets my Puppydog"

He gave her a long look, despite the worry he couldn't help but think _can I be yours? Really? Because if you want then I'm all yours,_ allowing her to take his hand and lead him up to Erik's study.

Bid to enter, Angela stood whilst Peter took a seat. Erik looked like there was a thundercloud hanging over his head, about to flash lightning at her, but instead of being frightened she stood her ground and gave him a look

"Sit down" he commanded, pointing to a chair

"I'm good here," she folded her arms, popped one hip out nonchalantly

"Sit down before I drag you down by that hideous ring in your nose" Erik growled. She rolled her eyes, relenting and taking a chair beside Peter, reaching for his hand and silently daring Erik to say anything about it. The boy was shaking like a leaf, pulse hammering so fast and hard she could feel it in his fingertips. It made her feel even more determined to defend him if Erik was about to lay into him.

Erik looked his son over with a steely eye, taking in the boy as if apprising a horse for purchase. He didn't look good, perhaps a touch thinner than he had been and still with a nasty blue cast to his pale lips. The handle of the door creaked ominously as Erik bent it out of shape, wishing it was the girl's throat.

"You enjoy pawing at my son, girl" he said to Angela, "It's the last time you'll be doing so"

"Dad! –"

Be quiet! Charles has told me what's been going on, this is the second time she's made you sick. I've had enough of it"

"But –"

"Will you BE QUIET" Erik roared, making his son shrink back in the chair as if he'd physically struck him. Almost instantly there was a _pop!_ as the lightbulb in his desk lamp exploded, and he looked up to see Angela giving him a glare of death, leaning forward in her chair as if she was ready to lunge for his throat with her teeth

"How old do you think he is, Jerkass?!" she shouted, thumping both fists down in the desk in fury, "He's not a kid, let him talk for god's sakes!"

"Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that? You're going to regret the day you ever laid eyes on him, child, I'll tear you apart for this!"

"I'm nobody," Angela spat, "I'm just a kid with powers who's trying to get by, didn't the Great and Powerful Magneto ever make mistakes? Ever hurt anybody he loved without meaning to?"

That hit far too close to home, and Angela gagged as a letter-opener flew at her to rest with the point pressing into her throat, breathing in furious little gasps, never stopping the vicious glare she was throwing at Erik, who had risen from his seat. She felt the point of the blade dig in a little deeper, a tiny trickle of blood coursing warmly onto the collar of her shirt. He was going to cut her throat, she thought, and he was going to do it slowly. She jumped in her seat as without warning, Peter had leapt to his feet and grabbed the blade, pulling with all his might against the magnetic force holding it in place and shouting furiously

"Stop it! PLEASE Dad just STOP! It's not her fault!"

She looked up at him and was shocked to see there were tears running down his face. She'd never seen him so overwrought before, pulling at the blade with both hands until he had fallen backwards as Erik released it.

"It's not her fault!" he repeated, sobbing. Erik's heart broke, and the letter-opener clattered to the floor as he moved to wrap his arms around his son, cradling his head against his chest. He could feel the convulsive sobs tearing through him, tears almost stinging his own eyes. Watching the girl as she dabbed the blood from her throat and swallowed hard – that was going to bruise, and he hoped it hurt her badly.

"See what you've done now?" he hissed, shocked when she had not moved, no fear in her eyes, only watching him silently rocking Peter until his sobbing had started to subside a little. Releasing him and gently pushing him down into a chair, a look of grave concern on Erik's face.

"I haven't done anything," she said quietly, refusing to let her voice shake, "When are you going to start taking some responsibility? You made him cry, not me"

She reached for Peter's hand, squeezed his fingers tightly. Erik didn't stop her, too angry at the wilful disobedience even to move.

"Take responsibility? He's my son, how much more responsible would you like me to be than to try to protect him from your poisonous influence?"

She laughed humourlessly, giving Erik a withering look and shaking her head

"Oh yeah you're like, Father of The Year. Last time I checked, Peter's second name wasn't Lensherr, I wonder why that could be? Maybe because you only decided to show up and start pushing him around now?"

She was skating on very thin ice, she knew, putting her life in danger even. But she wasn't going to let him get away with making her Puppydog cry and trying to blame her, trying to look relaxed as she continued.

"I know things haven't been perfect, but I've never hurt him on purpose and I never would. I love him, you must understand that? We *both* love him"

Erik stared her down, irritated that she didn't drop her gaze no matter how hard he pushed. She reminded him of Magda sometimes, with that iron will and foolhardy bravery. Finally, Peter had spoken, looking up at Angela and sniffing, eyes red and raw from tears.

"You do?" he asked, "Really?"

"Of course I do you stupid thing" she laughed, feeling a lump rise in her throat at seeing him that way, "Why do you think I don't want you to change? Because I love you just the way you are. You're a dumbass and a jerk, and I _love you_ "

For a moment, nobody spoke. Erik took a deep breath, trying to contain his resentful fury. That had certainly changed the mood in the room. In a way he was quite proud of her, standing up to him like that, even if he did think her foolish for thinking that her little sparks would do anything against him. He looked hard at Peter, now reaching over to brush her cheek lightly with shaking fingers. He knew that look, had seen it reflected in his mother's eyes for such a brief period of time so long ago, and he felt his anger draining away at the idea that his boy might feel the same way. Aside from this little lapse, he'd been so much more cheerful in the past few months, showing so much less of the despairing loneliness that Erik could sympathise with only too well. Perhaps in time he could even grow to despise Angela just a little less, if she made Peter happy. His eyes fell on the little crystal sphere, kept on a table by the window where it could catch the light. A sunbeam was striking it at just the right angle to show the blazing silver in its surface, shining in the dim room like a little beacon. _You can't control it_ , Magda had told him. How right she was in so many ways. He heaved a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face.

"If you hurt my boy again – "

"Yeah yeah, you'll kill me dead, yadda yadda. I just met his Mom, you can spare me the talk, and by the way? She's way more frightening than you"

Erik smiled just a very little at that, liking the girl's pluck. She was right of course, Magda had even scared him sometimes. Her devotion to her children was terrifying, outstripping even him with her fury if any harm were to come to them. She may not have any powers, but Erik fancied Angela's chances less with Magda than with himself. He reached into a desk drawer and returned with a bag that held a dozen or so of Hank's power-bars, tossing it gently into Peter's lap.

"Dr McCoy says you're to have at least three a day and monitor your weight for a while. He's concerned, and he's not alone" seeing the little sneer of distaste on his son's face, he was mildly amused. Though he'd never tasted the things he knew Hank's cooking, and doubted that his nutritional supplements were any better. "Miss Goldsmith? You are possibly the most irritating person I have ever met, but your bravery does you credit"

She snorted at him, but offered him a tiny smile in acknowledgement of the complement.

"Can we go now?" she asked, getting to her feet and pulling Peter with him. The boy cuffed at his nose and looked up at his father. Erik hurt inside at the pleading look, desperately wishing that he could pull his son back into his arms and hold him forever, protect him from the smallest harm that could befall him. He'd failed him once already, the punishment of seeing him in so much pain when Apocalypse had snapped his leg and arm like twigs had been worse than anything he could have imagined. Those shrill screams still echoed in his mind sometimes, when he tried to sleep, joining the cries of others that he would hear as long as he lived. Peter could be so vulnerable, had been so alone in the world for so long – perhaps now it was time to let him start gathering the few people who could bear him. If that had to include Angela, then for the time being, Erik would allow it. He nodded, waved a hand to pull the door open for them

"Yes – go."

"Hey Dadneto?" Peter said quietly, looking back as they turned to go, "Next time we go out, can I bring Angela?"

If the boy was any denser he'd sink, Erik thought. Still, there was a sweetness in the way he looked at the girl that he couldn't deny, and he supposed it was his duty to try to get along with her now. He nodded, waved them away again

"I suppose. Now go try and fit a whole pizza in your mouth or something, I've got work to do"

When the door had closed behind them, he rested his head on the desk and sighed in frustration. The moment he turned his back on the boy he was getting himself into trouble. Angela's words stayed with him though – just a kid with powers, making her way in the world – hadn't they all been that way once? Not everybody was as powerful as Erik, as flighty as Peter, as fierce as Angela, but they all had the burden of their gifts to cope with. If she could be of any help in making sure that his son steered himself right, then he would have to accept that she had her part to play in his life. Though Erik had been furious when Charles had told him that Peter had been taking pills to slow himself down to Angela's pace, he had eventually been talked round in the way that only Charles knew how to do to him. It wasn't like he was the first young Mutant to ever try to escape their powers with drugs, and at least he could rest assured that Peter would never get hold of them again – Hank had destroyed everything, assuring him that he would not supply the boy in future. Charles had also tried to explain that Angela had never asked him to do anything, had in fact been just as upset as Erik when she found out what Peter had been doing to himself. Perhaps, Erik thought, this could be the time to let Peter find somebody other than his parents to comfort him. He would be staying a week in the mansion, and as he got out his research notes and settled into work he made a note to take his son out at some point before he left, after the boy had a little more time to rest up. And he _supposed_ he'd take Angela too, if she would agree to his company. He had the feeling she would go wherever Peter did.


End file.
